Return to Red Rock
by e-dog
Summary: Harm has lost all hope and feels it’s time to move on. However, a trip back to the place that started it all could change his mind. [Harm’s POV, Post Bridging the Gulf]
1. Part One

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: I started this story a while back, after Bridging the Gulf aired. Then I put it aside, working on other fics that I started (cough) months ago. I didn't want to post another unfinished story. Even still, I couldn't shake this one and I actually finished it! Go figure. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Harm has lost all hope and feels it's time to move on. However, a trip back to the place that started it all could change his mind. . .Harm's POV set after Bridging the Gulf

**Return to Red Rock**

by e-dog

Part One

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

It's getting so much more difficult to continue on with my life here at JAG. I literally feel like an alien roaming the halls asking the people of earth to take me to their leader. I haven't spoken to Mac in over a week, because frankly, I'm not sure I know how to approach her anymore. Furthermore, Cresswell has got her so damn busy with the Bugme Reincarnate, I rarely get to see her.

I also think she's avoiding me. I'm not sure why, but I think she is. A part of me wants to find her, sit her down and talk. I want to know why our friendship has morphed into this unknown specimen that even a microscope couldn't decipher. I tap my pen on the desk, trying to distract myself. Trying to keep my thoughts from ruling my emotions. Mac isn't the only person in my life whose current behavior befuddles me.

My other relationships are slowly wilting away as well. Mattie is so busy rebuilding her relationship with her father, I can't seem to reach her by phone or by e-mail. My blow up with Sturgis on the carrier has put us in an unpleasant place. We can't seem to get through the day without scowling at each other. And come to think of it, I haven't been keeping up on the Roberts clan at all! It's moments like these I realize, I don't know anybody anymore. Even Jenn is starting to keep her distance. Can't say I blame her either. Our little arrangement with Mattie and the apartments has probably scared her away for good.

I know it seems like I don't want things to get better, but I really do. I want my life to resemble what it used to be nine years ago, when I was younger, happier, more determined. . .back when I was falling hard for a certain Marine Major.

I guess I just don't have the energy anymore. Nothing about my job, about being a lawyer is inspiring me to fight for a better tomorrow. The General seems to think a younger staff is what he needs around here and who am I to argue? I'm obviously too old and too inexperienced to make a better judgment. I snort in disgust at that last thought. Too old? Too inexperienced? Get real.

Maybe coming back a year ago _was_ a bad idea. Maybe it's time I just move on.

She taps lightly, hoping not to startle me, but she still does. It's a rare occasion to see her standing in my doorway and I have to say her timing is impeccable as usual. Every time ruminations of leaving JAG enter my mind, she shows up. Sometimes, I think she's the reason I'm still here. Hell. Who am I kidding? She _is_ the reason I'm still here.

"Hey, Colonel. . .," I say, remaining formal. I'm unsure of how to continue. She looks so unreachable. I fiddle with my pen, waiting on her to say something. Anything.

"I think I need a vacation," she starts off. I cock my eyebrow. I can already tell this is going to be fun. (Note the sarcasm)

"Yeah?" I say, not sure where she's going with this. Then I make my first mistake and say, "I could use one too. . ."

She jumps on that immediately, "I was thinking about going out to Arizona, but. . ."

"But?"

"Harm. . .," she says my name slowly, almost cautiously. I don't like the way she's saying my name or that apprehensive look in her eyes. My heart beats faster as I wonder, what could she possibly want? It's obvious she's put much thought into what she's about to ask me because she seems slightly flustered. Finally she asks me, "Would you go with me? Out to Red Rock? I don't want to travel alone and I'm not sure who else I should ask to go with me. . ."

Many months ago, she told me, "Let me come to you."

Then on Christmas Eve she expressed how she was thankful we were both alive.

Either I'm reaching or this request to travel to Arizona is her way of asking me back into her life.

Whether she is or not, I find that the word "yes" has left my lips faster than my brain can formulate the response. She steps back, her face taking on that somewhat dazed expression. Probably shocked to hear me so excited about a trip she has yet to explain to me. I stumble over my words as I try to amend, "I mean, sure Mac. I would love to go, but you know Cresswell. . ."

"Well, we can ask for leave together," she suggests, like it's no big deal. It's obvious her relationship with Cresswell is much better than it was earlier this year. However, I'm still not all that comfortable around the man. For a Marine, he's way too calm and that irks me. Sometimes, his demeanor astounds me so much, I have to wonder if I did something wrong. Maybe I should put this another way. . .

"Mac, he already thinks there's something. . .you know," I try to imply the obvious, then add, "Asking for leave at the same time. . .Don't you think he's going to get suspicious?"

Her eyes squint in confusion. She's not catching my drift. Or maybe she does understand and is just playing dumb to get her way. I sigh and decide to backpeddle. If I go with her to Red Rock, it could and/or will result in some alone time. And that alone time could and/or will result in bringing up "the talk" that we're always avoiding. Lastly, "the talk" could and/or will result in some unwanted heartache, headaches and a dressing down from a Marine (Mac) when a Navy Commander (Me) has pissed said Marine off.

Frankly, I would like to keep avoiding that.

I shrug showing indifference and say, "Anyway, I doubt he'll let you go. He's made you Vukovic's new teacher."

I clearly hit a nerve with that comment and instantly regret bringing it up. Strike one, Rabb. Strike one.

She folds her arms defiantly and seethes, "Vukovic is the reason _why_ I need the vacation. You know what, you're probably right. I'm stuck here."

"Mac, wait," I say and rise from my chair. I'm relieved when she stops and waits for me to reach her. I go to shut my door, but not before I catch a glimpse of the new resident hot-shot. Anger boils in me, mostly because now he's another thorn in Mac's side. Secondly, I get the feeling Cresswell is trying to replace me with. . ._him_. The thought makes me gag. I finally shut the door and focus on her. "If you need a vacation, you should take it. . . No, you should demand it."

Her mouth slowly curls into a tiny, mischievous grin. For a moment, her eyes light up and I see a glimpse of the Mac I met nine years ago. There's a fire there that I had thought burned out years ago. She nods in agreement, "For once, you're right. I desperately need to do this."

"Then do it," I say triumphantly. To be honest, I'm happy that my opinion still has such an impact on her life. I'm also glad to see she's not avoiding me, as I had previously conceived.

"You're still coming, then?" she asks timidly.

This time, I falter. The resounding yes doesn't come to me as quickly as it did before. I slowly start to see that fire I ignited in her is dying down. I'm so tired of disappointing her, that I say in one quick breath, "Yes, I would love to go."

I don't mention Cresswell or Vukovic nor do I show any reservation in my decision to travel with her. She gives me a genuine and relieved smile and I shudder at the happiness radiating from her. It's finally dawning on me that she really wants me to go. Sarah Mackenzie has just asked me to get on a plane to Arizona and spend some time alone with her. Boy, wasn't I an idiot for trying to backpeddle earlier!

I open the door for her and she exits my office. I stand in the doorway, watching her maneuver cleverly through the maze of desks, successfully avoiding any contact with Vukovic.

A smile threatens to attack my face as I wonder what this trip to Arizona will entail. I can only imagine it will be a trip to remember.

End Part One


	2. Part Two

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: Haha, apparently Red Rock Mesa isn't a real place. . .or not a place you can pinpoint on a map. You learn something new everyday. For the purposes of this story, Red Rock Mesa will be located in and/or around Mesa, Arizona.

Summary: Harm has lost all hope and feels it's time to move on. However, a trip back to the place that started it all could change his mind. . .Harm's POV set after Bridging the Gulf

**Return to Red Rock**

by e-dog

Part Two

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

"How long will this excursion take?" our boss asks us.

"A week," Mac replies. I just stand there, pretending to fade into the background. I want it to be clear that this is her idea, not mine. If it's mistaken as my idea, I have a good feeling he'll just flat out say no. His gaze is disapproving, as usual, but he finally relents and gives us what we asked for. There's really no reason for General Cresswell to deny our request for a vacation. I have plenty of leave left on the books. God knows Mac has ten times more vacation time than me.

Naturally, Cresswell is curious as to our motives. He has been since day one. Those beady eyes seem to follow us everywhere, making sure we stay professional. As much as I would like things to be "unprofessional" with Mac, that's just not going to happen. If he would just look at our files and read between the lines, he would understand that there is simply no hope for a hot office romance between the two of us.

We, unfortunately, made that distinction long ago.

**Red Rock Mesa**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 1**

We parked the car a few miles back near some others. There are tourists here who wisely stayed behind and just took pictures from the road. Mac wanted to trek across the hot sand and find those tracks we stumbled upon all those years ago. I doubt they're still there, but this is her vacation. I'm just along for the ride.

As I trudge through the sand and grit, I remind myself that she's my best friend. We have been best friends for nine years and as I have told her, nothing will ever change that. Even still, she picked absolutely the hottest day in history for this expedition. No, really. I'm not kidding. As my good friend Jack Keeter used to say, "It's hot enough to make a monkey eat cake!"

To this day, I still have no idea what that means. I just know it refers to sweltering heat that's capable of making a man spit out something stupid like, "It's hot enough to make a monkey eat cake!"

I grind my teeth in frustration as I feel sand between my toes. The sun is blistering hot and my skin is on fire, but I'm not going to voice my discomfort. Not today. She wanted me to be here and I'm not going to ruin this. I just won't let myself do that. It still puzzles me as to why she wants to be here, back at Red Rock Mesa. Maybe for nostalgic reasons. Surely, this place is the home of many memories. Her Uncle Matt used to bring her out here. There's also that matter of The Declaration of Independence being stolen. The first case we worked together. I can't help but wonder if this is her way of telling me, "This is what I miss. I want to go back to this."

Well, believe me, I want to go back to this too. I want to turn back the clock and start over. I want to do a few things differently. Not everything. Just that little issue of not telling her how madly in love I am with her. That I would definitely change.

She's walking ahead of me at a much more brisk pace than I.

I just don't get it.

She eats Beltway Burger all the time. With the workload, I haven't found the time to take a morning run and I doubt she has the time either. And yet, her body is super trim, she has the stamina of the Energizer Bunny and she doesn't look tired at all. Here I am, trudging along like I don't exercise nor eat like a vegan. I feel I should bring up this point and ask her how she's maintaining such a snappy pace, but I already know the answer.

"I'm a Marine, Harm," she would say. Simply being a Marine explains everything. At this point, it makes just as much sense as anything.

Thankfully, she's stopped to take a break and I immediately pull out my water bottle and chug copious amounts of the refreshing liquid.

She glances over her shoulder and remarks jokingly, "Tired?"

"No," I answer with a raspy voice, trying to stay macho. I have a feeling she knows I am exhausted by the way she smiles at me. It was like one of those pity smiles. She turns away to look at the horizon while I shut the cap on my water bottle and grimace. I know I must look like crap. Sweat pouring down my face, clothes sticking to my sweat drenched body. You would think with all my trips out to the Afghan desert, I would be used to this kind of weather. To my dismay, she motions to continue on and I reluctantly follow.

"So, Mac," I ask innocuously. "What's the occasion? Why did you need me out here?"

"I told you, I didn't want to travel alone," she repeats. She's been feeding me that line for the last two days. She refuses to give me a straight answer as to why she chose Red Rock for her vacation. She refuses to tell me why she picked me.

I push my body to run faster, catch up to her and stop her in her tracks. "Mac, you didn't drag me out into the Arizona desert just for my company. What's up?"

She doesn't look at me at first. She grips her backpack tightly, while trying to find the right words, I suppose. Finally her eyes squint at me, her expression looks. . .hurt? Uh oh. What did I do?

She says quietly, "Maybe I did just want your company, Harm. Is that too much to ask?"

I pause. I just screwed up again, right? My feet shuffle a bit, showing my discomfort and embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Mac. You just have to understand, with you, it's hard for me . . .I just thought. . .wow."

I can't find the right words. Searching for them is useless, because no matter what I say, I'll look like a moron. She seems to understand anyway and tells me we're almost there. Then we can stop and set up camp. As I follow, I can't help but think that I've already ruined her vacation.

------------------

The backdrop is unbelievable. Absolutely stunning. Amazing rock structures for miles and miles. Lively green vegetation that you wouldn't expect to survive in these conditions. The sand, once an annoyance making refuge in my shoes, now looks soft and airy. What makes this place even more beautiful is seeing her, kneeling over and inspecting age old footprints in the sand. It took us nearly all day to find them. I like to imagine they're the same ones from nine years ago, but I doubt it.

Her hair is tied back, her gentle fingers trace the outline and her soft voice explains to me what kind of dinosaur prints she believes they are. I could care less about the useless trivia. All I care about is that smile I see on her face. The way her face lights up whenever she retells stories about Uncle Matt and how he helped her to dry out here.

Trying to remain interested (and not appear like I'm gawking at her) I ask foolishly, "These prints look smaller. Are they a different kind of dinosaur?"

"No!" she exclaims, laughing like I should already know. "Look, the toes are exactly the same, but the sole's impression is not as deep. Could most likely mean this ancient beast was running on it's toes from a vicious predator. You see?"

"Yeah, I understand," I say and smile softly. She seems content with her assessment and rises from the ground. I offer her my camera and suggest, "Pictures? For memories sake?"

"Pictures of the dinosaur prints or pictures of us?" she asks, giving me a quirky smile and folding her arms across her chest inquisitively. I falter, knowing full well that I packed a tripod just so I could get a picture of the both of us. I even have a shutter release since my camera doesn't have a timer. I forget how well she knows me and it's caught me off guard again.

Finding it hard to answer her, I watch her shake her head in amusement, "Yes, I would love a picture of us. We haven't updated since Afghanistan a couple of years ago, anyway."

"You're right, we haven't," I smile and release the breath I had been holding for the last few moments. I unpack and set up the tripod. Once I'm set, I stand next to her holding the shutter release. A few awkward moments ensue as we try to figure out how to pose. I finally take the initiative and wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me. I glance down, making sure she's okay then ask, "Ready?"

"Yep," she replies. She seems apprehensive in this pose, but she relaxes eventually.

"On three. . .," I instruct and we both face the camera. "One. . ."

This one snapshot is going to hold so much meaning later in my life. Probably in hers too. Will we look back on this and view fake smiles and forced camaraderie?

"Two. . ."

Or will we look back on a vacation to Red Rock where we finally took out time for ourselves? Where we enjoyed spending time together, dining on the local food and laughing about inside jokes from years ago? I assume only time will tell.

"Three."

The flash goes off, capturing our smiles and our snug embrace. We glance at each other for a brief moment savoring the contact, before pulling apart.

End Part Two


	3. Part Three

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Return to Red Rock**

by e-dog

Part Three

**Red Rock Mesa**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 1**

I snap a few photos of the dinosaur tracks and unbeknownst to Mac, I take some pictures of her as well. In most of the shots, she's looking away from me studying the footprints again. I was lucky enough to get one where she sort of looks at me, while she's cupping a hand over her eyes to block the sun. I can't wait to see how these pictures turn out.

I decide to stop playing paparazzi before she catches me in the act. It seems silly to take these photos incognito but I want to remember this trip more than anything. I want several photos that one day I hope we can both look back on in fondness, but for now, these photos are my own little secret.

We start to walk back to our mini camp and I ask, "How long has it been since you've done this?"

"Looked at dinosaur tracks?" she asks me to clarify. I nod yes. She sighs and says truthfully, "Nine years ago. During our first case together."

"Really?" I ask, completely dumbfounded.

My eyes must be as large as saucers, because she pats my arm and says, "Harm, really, it's no big deal."

"But you love this stuff!" I protest, to which she responds with a shy smile. We reach our little campsite and I continue to rant, "I can't believe you haven't been back out here since then!"

"You can't?" she laughs and takes a seat on a blanket. In a playful voice, she remarks, "I've spent the last nine years of my life around _you_. At what point did I have time to come back out here?"

"Fair enough," I say, releasing a small chuckle. "I guess certain periods of my life did give you reason to postpone such plans."

At first, it seems funny then I suddenly feel guilty. Mac has been there through my low points and my highs. Did I really disrupt her life so much, that she spent too much of it worrying about me? Or am I being too self-centered in that assessment? It's not like the last nine years haven't been a trying experience for her either. I could almost imagine her journey has been worse than mine. Even still, I have to ask. . .

"You don't regret ever meeting me, do you Mac?"

Her expression is incredulous, to say the least, as she exclaims, "No! Never, Harm! Why would I ever regret meeting you?"

"Well, the past couple of years could be a good reason," I comment quietly. The one thing I feared the most, I walked myself into. This "talk" was the one thing we had been avoiding for some time. Sure, there were points where we called a truce, but we never resolved anything. Now we're alone, in a desert with nothing to detour us from this. It's inevitable, I suppose. I secretly hope she wants to back out of this now. Fortunately, my prayers are answered.

"Harm," she says, her voice giving me a light warning. "Do you want to. . .? Now?"

I stare at her, ready to shoot down any hope of getting into "the talk". Some unknown force keeps me from babbling on about some nonsensical thing. I'm too curious, too regretful, too repentant. So what do I do? I forge on into unknown, but familiar territory.

"I. . .I know you said you just wanted me here as a friend, for companionship," I say, feeling very brave all of a sudden. "But I know that's not the reason. You know that's not the reason. I mean, we haven't really spoken much in the last two weeks."

"You're right," she sighs and looks away from me. She hugs her knees to her chest, resting her head on them and confessing suddenly, "Lately, I've been thinking about transferring. . ."

"Really?" I ask, taken aback with this news. "Is there a specific reason?"

"Not really," she shrugs and looks at me with a soft smile. "It's just a thought, really. A thought that's been bugging me for some time."

"I see," I say, fighting the urge to express my desires to leave Falls Church as well. I don't want to burden her with my worries or fears right now. Watching her transfer to another base would crush me, but telling her I want to leave too would crush her even more. A slight breeze makes her shiver some and I immediately find another blanket. She lets me wrap it around her, then she points at my camera.

"Maybe we should develop those when we get into town," she suggests, changing the subject. I guess she feels 'the talk' shouldn't happen now. My mind finally lets me agree and I conveniently forget what she just told me. We'll talk about her wanting to transfer at a later date.

"Yeah? You're that excited to see my ugly mug standing next to you?" I jest, gently poking her in the arm.

"Harm, you are far from ugly, believe me," she remarks, but intakes a quick breath as if trying to suck the words back in.

Her cheeks start to flush and she shuts her eyes tightly like she wants to vanish. Instead of feeling awkward about it, I take the comment in stride, "Yellow light, Colonel."

My use of the traffic signal relaxes her immediately and she releases a short giggle. I relax too, considering I mostly said it to put myself at ease! We both have had our share of verbalizing certain feelings that we swore to lock away forever. No matter how innocent the phrase starts, it always ends up sounding not so innocent. Even still, it's nice to know she still finds me physically attractive. Lord knows I feel the same about her.

"Man, why do I always say things like that around you?" she mumbles, mostly to herself but it's loud enough for me hear.

It's hard for me to discern if she actually wants an answer to the question. How would I answer it anyway? Well, Mac, I think it's because you think I'm hot. I open my mouth, ready to utter those very same words, but a failsafe mechanism in my brain stops me (thank God). Instead I find another response, "Hey, don't beat yourself up over it. I'm glad you still find me. . . presentable."

Another shy smile greets me and I grin so wide my face hurts. For a moment, I can't tear my eyes away from her. Did you know that you are the most beautiful person that I know, Sarah Mackenzie? Because you are. I love your laugh, your personality and your ability to adjust to all walks of life. No matter what the fates throw at you, you remain strong and unforgiving. Sure, you may flub your words occasionally, but I love that too. If only I could articulate this to you right now.

If only I was certain you felt the same way about me.

The sun is beginning to set and the air is much cooler. She suggests we gather up our things and head back. As much as she loves the outdoors, she rather sleep in a nice warm bed without the present company of scorpions. I couldn't agree with her more.

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 2**

We decided to drive today. She wasn't particular about where we were driving to, but she did express concerns about wanting a full meal before the day was over. Mostly, we ate fruit and snacks yesterday. I can tell she's long overdue in digesting any meat products.

During the drive, we stop occasionally to snap more pictures of the landscape. We even take more of the two of us. I feel these pictures are more vibrant and heartfelt. She's more eager to wrap her arm around my waist. Her smile is more lustrous and it makes me feel like a complete marshmallow inside. This sweet, confectionery goodness that's bubbling in me is ready to burst out. I want to lift her up and spin her around, I'm feeling so good. Of course, I keep this to myself.

I have to say I feel like a hypocrite (and an idiot) considering two days ago I thought this trip would be a total disaster. Who knows? Maybe there will more bumps before we head back to Falls Church, but right now I'm having the time of my life.

After we finish taking photos, her stomach rumbles demanding to be fed. We drive back into the heart of Mesa and stop at a diner called RJ's Family Restaurant. It has that "Eat At Joes" quality, but it's not grungy or unkempt. The food seems to be loaded with grease, but that's only on observation of the trays I see pass by our table. Mac, on the other hand, is eyeing everything on the menu hungrily. That appetite of hers will never change, I suppose. Luckily for me, they have something resembling a salad here, so I order that.

Our generic conversation passes the time and soon enough, our food is brought out to us. I'm surprised to see she's ordered a 12 oz. steak. I make a face, also noticing how red it is. She looks up at me and almost laughs, "It's medium well, Harm. Not rare."

"Are you sure?" I ask. I can feel my stomach churning a bit at the sight of this hunk of meat.

"I'm positive," she chuckles, her knife and fork tearing it apart.

"I'll take your word for it," I force a smile and begin to chop up the large leaves of lettuce in my salad. We eat in silence for the most part. The full meal is much appreciated and I begin to plan out the rest of our day. We wanted to develop the pictures and possibly do some shopping. We need essentials for the hotel room, including some munchies. She wanted to order room service and I easily talked her out of it. We could get an adequate amount of food for under 30 dollars at a grocery store. The hotel wanted 40 dollars for a decent dinner!

"Harm?"

I snap my head up, realizing I have been doing more staring at my plate then eating.

"You okay?" she asks, sounding uncertain. I think I've given her the impression that I'm bored.

"I'm fine, Mac," I say, then apologize, "Sorry, I was thinking about the rest of our day."

"Oh," she says, that smile illuminating her face again briefly. Her attention is out the window now, viewing this busy little city known as Mesa, Arizona.

"Are you okay?" I echo the question, noticing the regretful look on her face.

"Just thinking about the past again," she admits. "When I was young and I came out here to Red Rock, my head was so clear. I guess that's why I wanted to be here again. I can think without all the pressures of dealing with the office and Vukovic."

"That's completely understandable," I reply.

She sighs, "Anyway, when I finally decided I wanted to come here, I realized I would be going alone. . . "

I reach across the table and clasp her hand in mine. I courageously make a confession of my own, "I'm really glad you asked me. I'm tired of being alone too."

At that comment, she nearly snorts. I sit back alarmed, wondering what the hell is so funny? That's definitely not the reaction I was expecting. How is it my attempts at being romantic always turn out this way?

"Really, Harm. With all the women falling at your feet, you couldn't possibly feel 'alone'," she comments, finding much humor in something that wasn't funny at all!

"Mac, nothing happened!" I insist, but she doesn't seem to believe me. I make her look at me and I say sincerely, "Hey, I'm serious. Nothing happened. We had dinner and that was it. I swear."

I'm not sure why I'm pushing this so much. It's like I feel guilty for making her believe I've cheated on her, when in reality, we're not dating at all. To be honest, I was just enjoying the atmosphere of those fancy restaurants. Eating fabulous food that I would probably never take part in again. Those women really did nothing for me. There's only one woman who can make my heart flutter.

She looks at me and asks timidly, "Nothing happened?"

"I swear," I repeat. "Nothing. Is that what you thought?"

"It sure looked that way," she admits. "I'm sorry for thinking. . ."

"Don't be," I say. "I wasn't aware I was giving off that impression. . ."

She sort of chuckles again and I have to ask, "What now?"

"You weren't aware? You know, sometimes, you really are clueless."

Clueless? Yep, that's me. Freaking Clueless Harmon Rabb. I want to push this issue more and make her believe that I never did anything with those other women. I want her to realize that I didn't intend for anyone to think I was suddenly some man whore. I leave it alone, though. I get the feeling she believes me.

She's just denying she was jealous to begin with.

End Part 3


	4. Part Four

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Return to Red Rock**

by e-dog

Part Four

**The Hilton Hotel**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 3**

I hear a soft humming as I open my eyes to be greeted by the sunrise.

I shift my eyes to look out the window of our hotel room. Seeing how Mac is more computer savvy then I (and that's not saying much), she surfed the net and scored a discount on a suite. I have to say it's very, very nice. A mini fridge, hot tub, two king size beds, full size bathroom plus a separate room with another television, a mini bar, a table with four chairs and a huge, soft armchair. I haven't stayed anywhere this decorous in a long time. Then again, this is my first vacation in years.

The humming comes from the television with it's volume turned down fairly low. I go to move my arm and rub my eyes, but realize I can't move it. I look down to find Mac is leaning against me fast asleep. Now I remember. We had rented a couple of movies on our little shopping excursion yesterday. A few of the more current titles that I had heard Mattie mention once or twice. First we watched "Basic". Classic military drama starring John Travolta, investigating the disappearance of an Army drill sergeant.

I couldn't help but watch with scrutiny, as I know Mattie is a little young for this R rated movie. Then we watched our other selections, "Kill Bill" volumes 1 and 2. Suddenly, Basic didn't seem so bad.

I look at the screen as the words "Kill Bill 2" flash on and off. I laugh, remembering our reactions to the film. We had heard Quentin Tarantino was a little. . .sick, but both the "Kill Bill" movies amused me more than I ever thought they would. Mac, however, didn't find it as entertaining. She liked the action, even though most of it was incredibly unbelievable. The blood though...they definitely went overkill on the blood. We could both agree on that.

I really don't blame her for falling asleep through the sequel. Although, she missed that cool part with the eye. . .

I nudge her a little, even though I'd rather not wake her up, my arm is asleep and I need to move it. Her features are so peaceful, as if the weight of the world has been lifted for a few short hours. She stirs, realizes she's almost on top of me and jumps a little startled. I try not to sound too concerned, but I can't help it. "Hey! Hey, you alright? Bad dream?"

"Uh, no...sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. . .like that," she mumbles, still waking up. "I was surprised."

"Oh," I say, with the hint of a smile. She looks at the screen and scowls. I joke and point, "Hey, we fell asleep on the end. Wanna watch. . .?"

"No! We are taking those movies back today!" she orders, her tone of voice giving no room for argument. I continue to smile dumbly at her, until I've stared at her too long. She takes nervous glances around the room before asking, "What?"

"Oh, uh. . .nothing," I mutter, feeling like I got my hand caught in the cookie jar. How does she still do this to me after all this time? She takes my answer and accepts it before announcing she's going to use the shower. I nod and she disappears into the other room adjacent to the bedroom. I go to get up, but I catch her standing in the doorway again, her features forming into a soft smile as her eyes watch me.

Now it's my turn to feel edgy. I clear my throat and ask, "What?"

She blushes slightly and simply says, "Good morning."

Involuntarily, a stupid, boylike smile creases my face. I'm caught in some spell that she's cast upon me. I can't move. Literally, her utterance of 'good morning' has frozen me in place. Say something, Rabb! You already look like a fool, so say something before this situation gets sticky!

The wheels in my brain start to creak and the appropriate response forms on my tongue. With a very nervy voice I finally reply, "Good morning, Mac."

She gives me one last smile before shutting the door. My eyes roll up in my head and I plop back down into the soft sheets. I breathe in, still smelling her scent in the pillows next to me. When did this happen? How did this happen? In two short days, she's turned me into a pile of mush and I think she knows it.

She has to know it.

* * *

We drive into town to pick up the pictures. It's not until we pay for them, do I remember my little secret photo shoot out in the desert. My heart beats faster in fear. She can't see those photos . . .she'll think I'm some kind of pervert! Stalking her, waiting for her to turn around then snapping pictures from behind. 

As we walk back out to the car, I can see she's eagerly digging into one of the packages. I'm torn because she really wants to view them and I don't want to spoil her fun. On the other hand, I'm not sure which roll of film has the desert pictures and I'd rather sort through them first and take them out.

"Hey, Mac," I reach over and grab hold. "How about we wait until we get back to the hotel?"

"Why?" she asks as we stand in the center of the parking lot. The sun seems to be unforgiving today, almost punishing me. It's saying in a booming, ominous voice,"_You shouldn't have taken those pictures without asking, Harm! How dare you!_" I wipe sweat from my brow with my free hand, while my other grips the pictures tightly.

"I just think we should wait," I repeat, finding it hard to even come up with a lame excuse. I'm a freaking lawyer. I should be able to fabricate some kind of excuse on the spot, but words fail me.

"I would like to see them now," she persists and yanks back. In doing so, I lose my grip and the force in which she has pulled is stronger then we both thought. The pictures come flying out, spilling out on the ground. I quickly bend down, gathering them as we both mumble apologies. Then I notice she's silent. I shake in nervousness and look up. There they are. The pictures of her in the desert. Some of the photos, she's just standing, staring at the horizon. Others she's knelt down at the dinosaur tracks with a pleased smile.

I think the heat is getting to me. I feel like fainting in embarrassment.

"I. . .I. . .," are the only words coming from me.

"Harm. . .," she gasps. We pick the rest of the pictures up and I try to say we should put them back, but she won't give them to me. She's flipping through them and I shut my eyes, ready to be torn apart for invading her privacy or something. She mutters softly, "Wow, Harm. You're quite the photographer."

"I'm sorry, Mac, I just. . .wait, what?" I look at her, my eyes growing a bit large in surprise.

"You're quite the photographer. . .wait, were you worried about these?" she holds them up and I nod sheepishly. It seems to finally dawn on her why I'm so abashed and she blushes. Wow, she's blushing! Is that a good thing? I really hope that's a good thing. She stares at them one more time. I take a peek at them myself and realize they are wonderful pictures of her. I'm starting to feel selfish. I'm not sure I want her to keep any of them. . .that is, if she wants any. I would like to keep them all for myself, to stare at them on some random Sunday and reminisce about the "good ol' days."

"It's just. . .well, Mac, I wanted to remember this," I begin still trying to find the right words. "I wanted to maybe show these to you later, so. . ."

She glances up and repeats, "So?"

I want to finish, but man, what I have to say is going to sound really corny! I mean, really. The words going around in my head right now must have come out of some cheesy movie. Her eyes seem to penetrate my soul, looking for the rest of my answer. I tap my foot in nervousness. This cheesy movie line in my head, however, is the way I feel. I'll just have to trust she'll take it as the truth.

I finally finish in a rushed fashion, "So you could see the way I see you. . .through my eyes."

Her mouth hangs open for a moment, soaking in the line I just fed her. I tried to be sincere, but I was nervous. It probably sounded fake. Man, I'm an idiot! I want to fix what I just said, but I don't get the chance. Instead, I'm surprised when she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a warm embrace. I hug back, naturally, but I can't help but chuckle and ask, "What's this for? I thought you would kick my six for taking 'peeping Tom' pictures of you."

"Thank you, Harm," she says simply, ignoring my last comment.

My voice lowers a few decibels as I ask shyly, "For what?"

She doesn't elaborate anymore, but repeats, "Just. . . thank you."

I stand there hugging her, saying you're welcome and smiling for no dumb reason. She tells me she loves the pictures and I shouldn't feel ashamed for wanting to document this trip. In fact, she's happy I brought the camera along. Now she has something to remember this by.

Uh, yep. I have to say. . .Sarah Mackenzie still manages to surprise me. Hey. . . Didn't I request an instruction manual a while back?

**Main Street**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 3**

We're searching for a restaurant to eat dinner.

It's amazing how a place so incredibly torrid can become so cool at night. I'm glad I brought a jacket, because it's the only thing keeping Mac warm right now. She wore a spaghetti strap sundress for the evening, while I wore a casual polo shirt and khakis. We didn't anticipate this chill. I pretend that my own shivering is a result of some cosmic force and the not the biting breeze.

We're walking along Main Street, passing by various windows showcasing clothing, gifts, flowers, and other things that I'm not really paying attention to. There's something else more interesting catching my eye. There's something captivating about her pony tail. . .just swinging back and forth. I don't think I've ever told her that I like her hair this way. Long, with a brilliant sheen and curled under at the ends. Not that I didn't like the shorter hair style, but her attractiveness actually becomes more apparent this way.

I've resisted several times tonight in casually tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear. Instead, I've firmly kept my hands in my pockets in fear I'll go crazy and lose myself in the soft, silky texture and the scent of Herbal Essences.

Lively music grabs my attention for the moment and I can see it's caught her ears as well. We stop and see a club, blinking orange, green and blue lights. It's some Spanish name that I can't pronounce. I go to ask her what it says, but instead I stare at her in fear. She's got that look in her eye. I say dreadfully, "Mac? What are you thinking?"

"That I haven't gone dancing in a very long time," she tells me thoughtfully, her eyes silently asking if we can go inside. Dancing? Hmm...let's just say I haven't "danced" since my high school years. Well, no, I did go to a dance at the Academy once, but that's not the same as a dance club. It was more formal where you waltzed and there was less of a chance of stepping on your partner's feet.

"Well, uh, I guess I haven't been in a while either," I mumble, trying to act disinterested.

"In a while or ever?" she asks me, her eyes squinting in merriment.

"Ever?" I repeat, then I understand what she means. I defend myself with a lie, "Hey, I've been to dance clubs before Mac!"

"I've never seen you dance," she points out. Good God, she's challenging me. I can't back down. I never back down when it comes to a competition with my best friend. Only this isn't a courtroom where we verbally assault each other. This is shuffling my feet on a hardwood dance floor, trying to impress the woman of my dreams. So what do I do?

I grin and return with, "I've never seen you dance either."

We both playfully glare at each other, in some kind of stand-off. Her eyebrows waggle suggestively, daring me to cross the street and get my groove on. Well, let me tell you, I used to dance until the cows came home back in high school! I'll definitely take her up on her challenge, even if it has been _several_ years since I cut a rug.

Geez, Harm. Cut a rug? Do they even say that anymore?

I respond boldly, "Would you like to go dancing?"

"Are you ready to dance all night? I'm not stopping until I'm tired, you understand?" she warns me. I can tell she's trying to scare me. I gulp, but nod yes confidently. She grabs my hand and literally lures me across the street, determined to dance until one of us collapses.

We're getting ready to crash the party at this Spanish-named dance club, surrounded by drunk teenagers, loud Mamba music, and crazed bartenders.

Disco balls will probably be spinning, bright lights will mostly likely be flashing and the DJ will shout at the crowd giving us every reason to party the night away.

God help me.

To be continued. . .


	5. Part Five

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Return to Red Rock**

by e-dog

Part Five

**Club Fiebre Danza**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 3**

My eyes widen in dread as we enter the club.

My heart beats faster as I notice just how many people are in here. Disco balls spin, making my head twirl and I wonder if this was a good idea. Waitresses in short, bright green skirts walk by us carrying drinks and appetizers. Mac is still gripping my hand and I notice it tighten. Is she suddenly wary about this adventure too? I mean, we are far from being elderly citizens but it's obvious this crowd is much younger than we are.

Before I can attempt to suggest we go somewhere else, a young brunette approaches and shouts over the noise, "¡Recepción! Are you here to eat or to dance?"

Mac cuts in with a huge grin, "Dance."

"Aye, you're quite the couple!" the brunette tells us. I spy her name tag and it says Gina. She must be the official greeter. She continues to compliment, "You two will surely be the envy of the crowd!"

Mac just glances up at me and I smile awkwardly. This was another one of my fears. Being mistaken as a couple. I wasn't sure how Mac was going to handle the innuendoes, but I can tell you right now I'm perspiring so profusely I may need to find a men's restroom and fast! I just nod, not sure which words are appropriate for that kind of compliment. Mac takes charge, thanking Gina for welcoming us, then she pulls my arm leading me to the dance floor.

"Uh, Mac. . .maybe we should've eaten first," I say.

"What?" she says.

I clench my free hand and lean down to her ear and repeat, "Maybe we should have eaten first. We skipped dinner, remember?"

The mention of dinner seems to register with her and I'm hopeful that appetite of hers will save me from any embarrassment. However, she catches on to my plan and smiles, "I came to dance, Harm. Not eat."

Before I realize it, we're in a sea of crazed, sweaty people jumping and flailing their arms. The pace of the music changes to a familiar Latin tune and I see the crowd morph their berserk movements into a more structured dance. Good Lord, it's the Salsa. It's official. I can't do this. I stop Mac and turn her to face me, "Okay, I'll admit it! I haven't been to a dance since high school! I can't do this, Mac."

Her expression turns sympathetic, but not disappointed. She smiles softly, "I'll teach you."

"What?" I reply slow and dully.

"It's the Salsa, I'll teach you," she repeats, her smile growing broader. She sees another challenge here. An obstacle to overcome. Well, let me tell you, she's in over her head! Teaching me to dance the Salsa is like teaching a cat how to bark. It's not going to happen.

"C'mon, Harm, just give it a try," she pleads when I don't respond. I try not to look at her, but her puppy dog eyes have taken a hold of me. I reluctantly offer her my hand and she grabs it eagerly. We find our own little space to call our own and she tells me stand in front of her.

"Watch my feet, okay?" she instructs and I look down. I try to focus, but I find myself just gawking at her legs. Focus, Harm! C'mon! I watch her feet doing something relatively simple. I had always pictured the Salsa as being incredibly difficult, requiring a lot of coordination and skill. I smile with more confidence until I view everyone else around us. She's obviously showing me a much more simplified version, because the couples around us are doing something much more elaborate. My confidence suddenly drains from me.

"Uh, wow, where did you learn to do that?" I ask, trying to distract her and hopefully change the subject completely. If I get her talking, maybe I can somehow lead her off the dance floor and to a table. My hopes of getting out of this are slim however, because she sees right through me.

"I took classes a few years ago," she explains, then winks at me. "Your turn. Start out slow. . ."

I grab her hand with my right, while she positions my left hand on her hip. I move my feet, trying to mimic her movements, but I'm only successful in stepping on her feet in the process. I hear her giggle while she says sarcastically, "That was good, but next time, try avoiding my toes."

"I'll keep that in mind," I return with a chuckle of my own. It's slow progress, but I'm slowly getting my feet to step forward, then backwards then forward again in time with the music. Then she surprises me and pushes me back until we're a few feet apart. Our hands are still joined, but our arms are extended. She instructs, "Now pull me in."

I tug gently on her arm and she spins into me. Now she's up against me, her fingers still entangled in mine. She laughs at the amazed expression on my face then says, "Dip me."

I do as I'm told as if I'm on automatic pilot and I've been doing this all my life. Then I pull her back up. Once she's upright again, I'm astounded to find we're both back in our starting pose! Man, she's good.

Mac grins up at me and says, "See, not so hard right?"

"I, uh, no that wasn't too hard at all," I smile sheepishly. It's hard for me to say anything more because I'm drowning. The music is intoxicating, the sensual movements of the Salsa surround me as other dancers gyrate around us. It becomes clear to me that she's having a hard time releasing herself from my hold as well. There's something in the air, I think. It's invading my system, controlling my brain waves and my heart rate. This infection coursing through my veins forces me to grin in some zany, love sick way. I can't speak.

This would be the perfect time to kiss her. I think she may want me to, but it's not the right time. There's no sense in losing my head now. I don't want to confuse her or ruin her vacation. Instead, I finally manage to find my vocal chords and suggest, "Still want to dance?"

It takes her a moment to shake the spell this music has on her, but she finally nods yes. Her eyes are glowing with felicitous sparkles as she asks, "Ready?"

"Yeah," I say, nearly breathless. I clumsily start to go through the motions again, doing my best to concentrate on the dance and not on her. Every once in while, however, I find myself gazing at her. I'm kicking myself for realizing too late how much I still love her.

**The Hilton Hotel**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 4**

It's well into the morning when we leave. Thankfully, the hotel is within walking distance, otherwise I would've requested a cab and collapsed on the back seat from exhaustion. She wasn't kidding when she said she wanted to dance until she was tired.

She spent the entire time laughing at my mistakes, so that was probably her incentive to keep going. To get a good laugh at my horrible dancing skills. She did try to make me feel better by saying I was a quick learner. Then it was my turn to laugh. That would be the first and last time I ever danced the Salsa. Or should I say, the last time I would attempt to dance the Salsa.

When we arrived back at our suite, we dropped our tired bodies onto one of the beds. We lay there, elbows rubbing and breaths heavy and labored. In most cases, our bodies making any contact would result in awkward apologies and the immediate separation of ourselves. Nevertheless, I'm too tired to move and I bet she is too. I'll be content in just falling asleep right here, right now. . .next to her.

Despite how tired I am, I can't seem to close my eyes. I smile, thinking this was the first time in a while I actually stayed out past midnight to party. I also think that Mac was probably the last person I expected to drag me out to a club in the first place. I was pleasantly surprised by her initiative to dance and impressed by her dancing ability. I'll have to remember that the Salsa is another thing she enjoys. It could prove to be a good birthday present in the future. I imagine dragging her to a show, watching talented Salsa dancers show off their skills and majestic moves. She would love it. . .I think.

I feel her shift her weight, signaling she hasn't fallen asleep yet either.

"Thanks for coming out here with me, Harm," she says quietly, staring at the ceiling. "You probably think I'm a basket case."

"No, not at all. I enjoyed your company today, Sarah," I whisper back. Only seconds later do I realize I let slip her first name. I can't even remember the last time I addressed her in that way! She notices too and gazes at me, slightly surprised. I just smile and return my stare to the ceiling. She does the same.

"Are you leaving?" she asks me suddenly.

My eyes open so wide, it hurts. Leaving? How could she possibly guess that I regretted coming back to JAG? I never expressed this out loud to anyone! I cough and ask, "No, why do you ask that?"

"Well, this new lawyer comes in, we barely speak anymore, you and Sturgis still aren't talking," she lists, practically reading my mind. Just when I thought she wasn't paying attention to me anymore, she was watching me a lot closer than I imagined. Her head turns to look at me and she says, "I guess I wanted you here, just to make sure I still knew you. . .to make sure we were okay."

"Mac, we'll always be okay," I reassure her and sit up on the bed to fully see her. "Did you find out what you wanted to know?"

"About?"

"Do you still know me?" I ask her. My hand wants to slowly inch over to hers, clasp it in mine to corroborate the fact that I'm still the same and that I never want to let go. Despite my wants, I need to stay in control. I need to keep my hands where they belong until it's the right time. We're entering delicate territory again and physical contact will just jumble our thoughts and words.

"No, I don't," she smiles softly. "I think I met someone new tonight."

"Is that so?" I ask, a small grin forming on my lips.

"Yes, that's right. He made me. . .," she begins to explain, but falters. It pains me to watch, but the smile on her face is dissipating. Something is wrong and I don't know what it is. I don't know how to fix it. Was she trying to tell me something too personal?

I panic and try to keep her focused. I need to know her answer, "Is this new Harm. . .someone you liked?"

I can't tell what's going on in her head right now, but nothing is snapping her out of it.

"Are you leaving?" she asks again, this time more sternly. She also sits up completely to look at me.

Am I leaving? Do I really want to leave? Will that be my choice, or will Cresswell make that choice for me? I swallow hard, not sure what to say. I suddenly feel her hand on mine. She squeezes it lightly, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, Mac," I finally say. "I get the feeling I don't belong anymore."

"Belong at JAG?" she asks, looking terribly confused.

"I mean, I'm not sure I belong anywhere. Sturgis hates me, Bud and I aren't as close as we used to be. You and I . . .," I falter and look away from her. "You and I seem to be drifting apart again."

Her hand never leaves mine. I can feel desperation in her grip. It scares me. It really does. It finally occurs to me, that if I left, I would leave Mac behind. Maybe it's occurred to her that if she transfers, she will leave me behind. I finally focus my attention on her again and force a weak smile, "I just. . .I don't want leave. I just feel like _everyone else_ wants me to leave."

"I don't want you to leave, no one does," she tells me. I want to believe her, but I have my doubts. I think she can see I'm still dubious and squeezes my hand tighter. "I don't want you to go, Harm. If I have to deal with Vukovic on my own, I might go crazy!"

Her attempt at humor breaks the tension and a laugh rumbles through my body. It pleases me to know she absolutely hates the new guy. I mean, whenever a new guy shows up, Mac seems ready to jump on the bandwagon, but I should have more faith in her character assessment. Anyone can see Vukovic is a slimeball.

After our laughter dies down, the real issue still remains. I believe with all my heart she wants me to stick around, but it's not enough to change my mind. It's taking a lot of will power to admit this to her, but I forge on, "I think it's time I move on, Mac."

"Without me?" she asks, trying to remain stoic. I can see her eyes are beginning to tear up and I hate that I'm making her feel this way. After such a perfect night, I'm ruining it in one swift motion. I reach out and wipe away one lone tear that escapes. She forces a laugh and lies back down, carefully drying her eyes with her fingers. In one painful breath, she asks, "Why do you always do this to me?"

"I don't know. I wish I would stop," I say, forcing a laugh as well. "I wish I could make you smile."

Through her semi wet eyes, she gazes at me and finally gets to the root of her problem. In fact, her feelings come bursting out like a flood and she rambles. She doesn't usually ramble, so I know she's upset.

"I wanted to transfer because of you. Not because I don't want to see you anymore, but I just kept having this nagging feeling that you wanted to leave. If you left and I remained at JAG, it would. . .hurt too much. There's too many memories. There's too much we haven't said or resolved and now. . .it's too late."

Too late? Is it really too late? The deeper we dig ourselves into this conversation, the harder it is to look at each other. I stare at the sheets on the bed, my fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric. I respond, "Mac. . .If you transfer or if I leave, that doesn't mean we'll stop talking or seeing each other. We just won't see as much of each other. . ."

"Is that what you want? To not see as much of each other?"

"A long time ago, you told me I would never lose you," I say, now bringing my fears to light. "I feel like that's happening. . .I feel like that's going to happen very soon."

"And you told me that's nothing's changed. You'll always be there for me," she repeats. It's clear we've given each other broken promises. Things have changed, the cosmos have aligned events that were beyond our control and now our lives our slowly taking different paths. We've grown silent now, just staring at each other. Searching for whatever solutions we can find to our plight.

I'm beginning to fear there's nothing we can do to change this. The damage is already done.

No, wait. I can fix this. I have to fix this. I'm not going to ruin her vacation, or confuse her or disappoint her anymore. I simply need a plan. Yeah, that's it. A well-thought out plan that. . .that. . .

Our eyes have locked again and any coherent thought has left me. Then I do something completely brainless. No, more like desperate. I do something completely pathetic and desperate.

I take her by surprise and land a forceful kiss on her lips.

Oh God, what am I doing?

To be continued. . .


	6. Part Six

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: This is the end and I wanted to say thanks for the feedback! You all rock!

**Return to Red Rock**

by e-dog

Part Six

**The Hilton Hotel**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 4**

She was surprised at first, but she doesn't pull away.

She's returning the kiss, desperately trying to keep up with me. I'm shocked, relieved and completely confused as to why she's allowing me to take advantage of the situation like this. We're both disoriented and exhausted from the dancing, right? Yeah, that's right. That's a good excuse for this delirious action. Despite we're both plagued by the realization of our dilemma, we're still here making out like two high school teenagers after prom. Would it be wrong for me to say that I'm loving this?

Before I realize it, the kiss is over. She's pulled away and I'm lying here alone on the bed.

I experience a time lapse, I think. It's like I've fallen asleep (although I'm pretty sure my eyes stayed open) and can't remember the last few hours. A quick glance at the clock tells me four hours have passed. It's nearly 8 in the morning.

My eyes shift over to the closed door. I think she disappeared into the other room, but I'm not sure. After the kiss, it's kinda blurry, to be perfectly honest. I think I remember saying, "I'm sorry."

I think I remember her saying, "It's okay, Harm. . .no...I'm sorry, too."

Then she was gone. She was sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry she let her body respond to the exact same feelings that are coursing through me? Sorry she couldn't control herself and had to drag herself away? I'm not quite sure I understand. For me, that was the most emotional, mind-blowing, totally invigorating kiss I've ever taken part in.

It's also the first passionate kiss I've initiated with someone I desire that has ended with me still very much clothed and very much alone. I don't think I have to tell you what that does to a man's ego.

Another time lapse. My eyes finally snap open and I stare at the clock. Damn, it's nearly 11:30. I roll out of the bed, still wearing my attire from the night before. I pause and realize how icky I feel. The ickiness is the result of partying the night away for the first time in years. My natural sleep schedule is off and I suddenly notice some muscles aching that I weren't aware existed before last night. I need a long, hot shower and quick.

First, I search the entire room for her, but she's definitely taken off and that scares me. While I don't think she would just leave me here alone in Arizona, the thought still crosses my mind. No, it's time for more rational thought. Where would she go? I'm not familiar with this area. I don't know her usual hangouts. I droop my head, feeling ashamed for what I did. Why did I have to kiss her? Did I really think it would solve all of our problems? We weren't ready! Stupid, Harm. Just stupid.

Nevertheless. . .

She has to know how desperate I am, right? How crazy I am for her? I've never been good with words, but damn, my actions must speak louder! There was nothing ambiguous about my intentions this time around! Not to mention, she returned the kiss with just as much vigor. Does that mean she really does have feelings for me?

Once I'm shower fresh and in clean clothes, I head over to our bag of goodies and search for some cereal. I need to eat something considering we never stopped for dinner last night. I head to the mini fridge for milk, but I find a post-it note stuck to the front. It's her usual scrawl telling me where she ran off to.

I read it aloud, "I went out to Red Rock to clear my head. I'll be waiting."

Red Rock! Of course! Man, sometimes I wonder if my head is screwed on tight enough. Of course she would go out to Red Rock. A nervous smile explodes across my face for I'm not sure what to make of this. Does this mean she's not furious with me? Or does this mean I'm in store for a dressing down by an angry Lt. Colonel?

I find that I'm very eager to go find out.

**Red Rock Mesa**

**Mesa, Arizona**

**Day 4**

The heat is unbearable again, but the more time that passes, the less I care about it. Instead of walking, I'm driving the semi-long distance from the main road towards Red Rock. Unlike Mac, who enjoyed trekking this patch of land a few days ago, I'm not all about hiking across this fiery sand again. As I approach the massive rock, I spot a figure resting near the base. It must be her.

I look around, still having to squint even with sunglasses on. The sun is high in the sky, so there are very few shadows being cast for shade. I cast my eyes on her again, watching her rest on a blanket. She seems to be wistfully staring off into the distance. I can't help but wonder what's going through her head.

With one deep breath and a crack of my neck, I start to walk towards her. My heart is pounding in anticipation and fear. For the first time in a long time, I'm completely walking into a situation that I've set up without thinking of the consequences.

Okay, okay. Don't laugh at me. I seem to _always _walk into situations that I've set up without thinking of the consequences.

I think she hears me approach but she doesn't move to greet me. I take this as an ominous sign of my impending doom.

I bravely sit down next to her in the sand and stretch out my legs in front of me. I lean back, using my hands to support me and wait. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for, exactly.

I could be waiting on her to address my presence.

Or I could be waiting on a nuclear bomb to crash down on us and announce to the entire universe that Earth has died.

Either one would be satisfactory right about now. Anything is better than the silent treatment. I'm going back and forth on whether I should say anything about the kiss. If she wants to talk about it, she'll bring it up, right? No need to force it...at least, I don't think I should force it. I bite my lower lip, wondering if the rest of the trip will be this way. We only have one more full day here, then tomorrow we head back to our real lives. The last thing I wanted was for this vacation to end on a gloomy note.

"You never answered my question, last night," she finally speaks up, glancing over to me. I think I spy the hint of a smile before it disappears.

I keep my cool and say, "You never answered mine."

"So, we make a deal?" she proposes. "You answer my question and I answer yours?"

"Deal," I say softly, forcing myself to make eye contact with her. I take a deep breath and say without regret, "I want to leave JAG. I am leaving JAG."

"I see," she sighs, but I grab her hand and hold it tightly. She stares at me, slightly confused.

"But. . ., erm, Sarah," I fumble over my words.

For Pete's Sake, Rabb! Can't you say something romantic without sounding like a complete idiot? C'mon! I involuntarily tighten my grip around her fingers and I pray I'm not squeezing too firmly.

I forge on,"But I'm not leaving you. I want to move on, but I want you to move on with me."

"I _see_," she repeats, this time her response somewhat breathless. I can envision the wheels turning in her head. Now she knows how I feel. We've both expressed thoughts of leaving and I just confirmed mine.

"I mean it, Mac. No matter what happens to me, I don't ever want to leave you," I reiterate. She's still silent and I feel satisfaction washing through me. I've told you what I wanted. I want you to be with me and it doesn't matter to me how we stay together. As friends, as lovers, or even as something substantial and worthwhile. Did I do it? Did I finally sweep you off your feet, Sarah Mackenzie?

Our breaths seem to be caught in our throats as I wait on her to say something more. She gives me a shy smile and squeezes my hand. "I guess I should answer your question."

I would be lying if I say my heart didn't just deflate. That was not the answer I was expecting. Sure, I would've preferred that she jump up, kiss me senseless and proclaim,"I love you!". Naturally, my imagination is simply running away with me and I should be patient. In one night we went from confused best friends to even more confused saliva exchangers. Instead, I nod my head, telling her I'm ready for her answer.

"The new Harm, that I met last night," she starts, her voice very small and timid. "He ventured out onto a Salsa dance floor and embarrassed himself for me. He took time out to admire me for me and captured his favorite moments on film. He agreed to travel with me out to Red Rock, despite the reservations I could see in his eyes." She pauses, then smiles, "It's not that the old Harm wouldn't have done the same things...I just think the old Harm would've treated me more like his sister. . . ."

I sit there, listening to every word and drinking in the gratitude that I hear in her voice. It's a wonderful feeling, let me tell you.

She's paused again, the sunlight reflecting off her skin and it mimics the happiness that's growing inside her. Wow, did I do that? Did I make her feel that way? I think I did. I sure hope I did.

She seems to find it difficult to finish, so I help. Mostly because I'm anxious to hear the rest, "Last night, you started to say the new Harm made you do something. What was it?"

At this question, I get a radiant smile and eyes filled with tears, "He made me feel good about myself. That's a feeling I haven't felt in a long time."

I immediately wrap her in my arms and she doesn't fight me. I could always see it coming. Dalton, Mic, Webb. . .they all made her feel good temporarily. However, I was certain that through all those relationships, she still disliked the woman she had become. Those men dazzled her, wooed her and stamped a huge "She's Mine!" sign on her back, but I'm very sure they never made her feel good about herself.

I did that. I've always wanted to do that and now I have.

I whisper softly, "I'm glad the new Harm made you feel that way."

"Me too," she says back, getting her sniffles under control. Then she laughs into my shirt.

"What?" I ask.

"You don't have to keep referring to yourself in the third person," she chuckles and pulls out of my embrace.

I produce the best flyboy smile in the history of flyboy smiles and laugh. I can't stop gazing at her and I wipe away one lone tear that has escaped her eyes. My finger slowly traces the outlines of her face. I caress her cheek just like I used to in days of old. Back when she needed me to be her comforter. Back when we weren't shy about hugging one another for the sake of human contact. For the first time in years, it feels safe to touch her and I'm flooded with alleviation. I watch her hand join mine, holding my hand in place forcing me cup her face completely. I see her close her eyes and I sense the longing within her, but I also sense the regrets.

No, no. Not now. We're too close!

"We can't do this, Harm," she tells me, putting on a fearless face.

"Why?" I ask, because that's the only word I can utter. I think I feel my heart shattering again. This has to be hurting her too, right?

"For the same reasons we never tried before," she says, sounding exhausted. She slowly pulls back and gently sets my hand in my lap. Her hand holds mine for a few seconds longer before she reluctantly lets go. I'm in stupor right now. For the first time in years, I felt we were on the same wavelength and now another curve ball has been thrown at me. Before I realize it, she's standing and walking away. Damn it! So close. . .

I stand up and shout, "Wait! Mac, wait!"

She stops, her arms are folded and her posture displays her discomfort. She wants to run, but I can't let her do that again. Not this time.

"Mac," I say as I finally reach her. "There's nothing back there, you know?"

"Back where?" she asks, not following my train of thought. Hell, I'm not sure I'm following my train of thought either.

"You know...back there," I stall, then find the words I'm searching for. I point in some random direction and finish, "Back in Falls Church. There's nothing there."

"Harm," she laughs lightly, clearly amused. "Our jobs, our friends and our apartments are back there."

I look out at the open desert space and breathe in deeply the hot, musty air. More and more I'm beginning to like it here and I'm suddenly dreading tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning is our flight back to D.C., giving us a day to regroup. Giving us a chance of preparation for our walk back into the JAG bullpen. At this point, I'm not sure I want to go back. In fact, I'm very sure I don't want to go back. At least not for another day.

I turn to her and say, "Our jobs? Our apartments? Is that all?"

"Is that all?" she repeats, now completely flabbergasted by my behavior. "Harm, I think the Arizona heat has finally gotten to you. . ."

"All I see in Falls Church are empty apartments devoid of all those things that make a home suitable to live in," I say, taking on this inspirational tone and attitude. "All I see our cluttered desks, rules, regulations and a Marine General who will kick our sixes if he ever finds out what happened here."

Mac seems to be paying attention to me now, but frowns at the mention of Cresswell. She raises an eyebrow and asks, "If he finds out what?"

"That his top two lawyers participated in some activity bordering fraternization," I smile sweetly and wink at her.

"I could always say you forced me," she jokes back, then adds smartly, "Which you did."

"I could always say you never pushed me away," I return and add just as curtly, "Which you didn't."

I smile widely and lean down to intimidate her. It doesn't work. I've only made myself nervous again, entering into a space that is mere inches from her face. I'm frozen in place, trying to keep myself from kissing her again. I'm trying to remain the gentleman, but. . .

"Harm," she warns me, her features softening and her voice barely audible. "We can't keep joking about this."

"I know," I whisper back, then lose it. Again. At this point, I don't know if I'm a complete moron or just drunk with love. Okay, everyone, place your bets! Is Harm a complete moron or drunk with love?

This time, I have a little more control. I've planted a soft kiss on her lips and I make sure not to get carried away. I pull back completely and look away, feeling guilty again. Why do I always have to mess up right when things are going good? Surprisingly, I feel her hand gently caress my arm. I look at her and she expresses softly, "Don't be ashamed. I'm not."

"I'm not ashamed," I tell her, which is a lie, because I was. However, now that she's okay with me kissing her again, I'm completely okay with what I just did. Now I can chalk my actions up to being drunk with love. (Now, who bet that I was a complete moron?)

I smile, but say with self-reproach, "We have to go back, don't we?"

"Yeah, we do," she sighs deeply. Then I watch as her face changes to an insightful, pondering expression and she says optimistically, "You're positive about leaving JAG, right Harm?"

I furrow my brow because I think I know where she's going with this. I place my hands on my hips, then tilt my head to side saying, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

She murmurs to herself, then taps her chin in thought as she proposes, "Maybe we can stay...for one more day. Talk about the future?"

"Yeah, maybe we can do that," I repeat softly. She offers her arm and I gladly hook my arm in hers. We head back to the car and I take another moment to view this magnificent landscape. This place that is hot as hell, yet the heat and atmosphere engulf you and make you do some crazy things. Things you never thought you had the courage to do. Things that can change your life forever.

Maybe we don't have to go back to Falls Church. Maybe for once, the stars have aligned perfectly above us, setting our universe in it's proper place. Maybe we can look back on photos of this trip and see genuine comradery and good times. We'll see how wonderful it was to take time out for ourselves, forcefully separating ourselves from an occupation that forbid us from having a future together.

Maybe, just maybe, we'll look back and see how easy it was to fall in love all over again. . .

And considering how many times I've fallen head over heels for Sarah Mackenzie, I have to say I'm an expert in the field by now.

The End


End file.
